Twisted Memory
by Rejected Forgotten Love
Summary: He knew it had been nothing more than a dream.  A moment's fantasy. The conjures of a tired and lost mind, but it disturbed him none the less.


a/n: Back to angst again~ So here it is. What I finally decided to post for my submission to the contest in 'OfWithHisHead'. (for the prompt 'Haunted Memories' I got too indecisive and really got stressed out, so after some swearing in japanese and much face palming I finally just sat down, and worked on this. A good sign from this one? In some of my more recent angst stories,I haven't cried while writing them. This time I did, and it felt so... refreshing. -is not a maschocist- I'm happy that it actually made me feel something :3

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><p><em>A<em>_ dream. Only a dream. _

His lungs burnt for air as he breathed in deeply, wiping at the collection of tears that had sprung to his eyes, half cursing half rasping as he sat up slowly, hand to his mouth, to quiet his soft wheezes.

_A twisted memory._

It was despicable.

The way he gasped and struggled for breath, flailing for the air and safety that was no longer there.

He knew that his time in the sunlight was gone.

His heart fluttered in his chest like a caged bird – a phrase he only knew too well from the infinite number of books that had passed through his hands.

But this wasn't the good kind of fluttering. Not the material of romance books or irrepressible excitement.

_It hurt. _

This sort of feeling…

His eyes were brimming with tears that he just could no longer contain, and although his fist was shoved into his mouth, he could not silence the pitiful sob that escaped him. He could taste the salty tears upon his lips, the sour tang of the blood he'd drawn from his pale hands, but he knew that the crying wouldn't stop.

_He hated this. _

He knew it had been nothing more than a dream. A moment's fantasy. The conjures of a tired and lost mind, but it disturbed him none the less, leaving his body rocking with the dreadful cries he omitted as he wept those tears of ice.

_A dream._

A dream nothing but a dream.

But that comprehension hurt more than the fact he dreamed it.

Eyes squeezed shut, lashes peppered with the sparkling essence of mourning, expression pained, he tried to forget.

He was always trying to forget.

_Impossible._

But he couldn't.

_He didn't want to. _

Shivering, he slid beneath his sheets, burying his face into the soft down of his pillow, slowly relinquishing his sore and stinging hand from his mouth's confines, with a bitter moan as he curled into himself, as if trying to protect the only thing he had left.

_Memories._

He had dreamt of him again.

Dreamt of cobalt eyes that shone like untarnished silver, and smiles that could illuminate the darkest room.

_He wanted them back. _

He would give anything to have them back.

If only he could stay in that land of despicable dreams and collage of memories that tore him apart each night, feeding his ever selfish desire.

Every time he opened his eyes it was like his heart being ripped in half, like a brittle page of an old tome.

_Over._

_And over._

_And over._

A never ending cycle that he just wanted to stop.

Like a repeat sign at the end of a composition that wouldn't be rid of.

Eyes opening slowly, wet and shining with tears that still flowed forth, he traced patterns and then letters on the mattress, whimpering quietly into his hand, feeling as if he was breaking apart.

_Tearing._

_Cracking._

_Shattering._

_Breaking. _

They had been sitting at the piano – a usual occurrence. A usual day.

_E_

Hands brushing, pressed close with quiet murmurs of direction, fingers entangling and un-entangling in their dances upon the ivory and ebony surfaces, working their magic upon the instrument, creating a whirlwind of sound.

_L_

They had listlessly drowned out the world, with their music, Statice ringing and echoing threw the room, with Lacie in it's wake, nothing more than pure enchanting, thrilling, moment in time.

Beautiful.

_L_

Finally everything stilled. Froze. Time had stopped, and all that was left was the two of them, breathless from the concentration and passion put into their work, wordless with the feelings that wafted over them.

_I_

**He** had smiled. A bright, luminescent smile that warmed his heart, and earned a smile of his own. They got to their feet, hands brushing again for a moment, before departing.

_O_

They had walked down the hallways, one foot in the long shadows, and one in the haze of the setting sun that blazed outside, like an omen of death.

_T_

He turned like he did every time, and looked up at the taller boy, desperately trying to catch his gaze, opening his mouth to speak the name he knew he couldn't. As always, as the darkness settled in about them, cold as frost, biting at his skin, the sunlight nothing more than a portentous splash of burgundy against the tiles, engulfed by a burning, ripping cold, a warm hand cupped his cheek.

_He wanted to die. _

"I'm Sorry."

_Breaking_

_Shattering._

_Cracking._

_Tearing. _

His fingers froze in their lettering upon the bed, tremblingly letting his nails sink into his palm, clenching them as he tried to blink away the tears of remorse.

_Elliot._

He wanted to say the name. He wanted to murmur it quietly to himself like a prayer, like a wondering praise, to whisper it to himself over and over. To keep it to himself.

_Revere it._

He wanted to scream it to the world. To scream and scream and scream till he could speak no more. Till his voice was raw and cracked and broken from the pain and devotion that was poured into that word.

More than anything he wanted to hear that rich voice and laugh, see those iridescent smiles, and beautiful eyes…

_Come back._

He knew that there would be no such chance.

_Please…._

He wanted to forget.

Forget that a young nobleman had ever extended a hand to him.

That he had ever been the reason for** his** pain.

He inconsiderately wanted to leave that pain and that burning, stinging sensation in his past.

But he knew he couldn't.

_Ever._

He feared that that in itself would break him further beyond repair than ever.

Therefore…

He... he would remember for all eternity.

Remembering and remembering and remembering…

_Remembrance._

For statice had been their promise.

And so he would keep it, no matter how unwilling…

Because really, even if he had had another option… he would much rather remember.

_Forever._

Even haunted memories were better than none.

…

"_Elliot."_

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><p>An: Reviews are MUCH appreciated. So. Please review :)


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